


Me, and You, and You

by Dana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Probably not canon compliant but who cares lol, angst with fluff, but probably more fluff than angst, mention of nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: Sam wakes up, and he's not alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



> I posted this to tumblr back in January for **Rubynye's** birthday. I've finally decided to crosspost it here, several months later!
> 
> Warnings/etc: Unbeteaed, Sam’s pov, fluff for the most part with mention of nightmares. Not too long, around 1100 words.

Sam's not the sort of guy who'd invalidate another soldier's reasons for feeling the way they do, cause they all have their baggage and they all deal with it differently – but then he's the one who's just woken from a nightmare, icy fear running through him and a colder knot of nausea heavy like a ton of bricks in his stomach, and it's a dream, it was just a dream, but he's still the fucking baby who needs a pat on the back. It's stupid, he knows he's being stupid. They aren't going to call him on it, ridicule him, they're just going to let him feel what he needs to feel.

The bedside light comes on, and he winces at the sharp sting of it before rubbing it away, tired and feeling it, tired but not alone. 'You okay?' That's Steve, always the first to say something, hair mussed, body language radiating nothing but the purest concern.

Sam manages a jerky nod, and he's not sure if that's a complete lie, cause it's not like he's breaking apart or anything like that, it was just a bad dream. But he knows he could be better, though he could also be much worse; still, his eyes are burning, his throat has gone a bit tight, and in his minds-eye, Riley is falling through the sky, always falling. The bed shifts about and Sam forces himself to think of something else, like where he is, _who_ he's with, because anything is better than remembering _that_. He doesn't even flinch as Steve's hand comes down to rest on his shoulder, and there is something – reaffirmation, inescapable, undeniable – in that tight squeeze.

'I'll get you some tea.' 'Tea' is code for whatever he finds in the kitchen area – but it's the Avenger's compound, so Steve could turn up pretty much anything if he really put his mind to it, he's had to before. Maybe they've got their differences, and they've got their similarities, but for the sake of all of them, Tony keeps the pantries well-stocked.

He also made sure they had a very big bed for all their varied activities, whether it's sleeping or rolling about in whatever else, and never side-eyes them when they need their time alone. Mostly.

Sam nods, and then Steve's hand is gone, the skin beneath cooler now for the air that's rushed back in. The bed, though, is far from empty, and Sam takes a breath, tells himself to _calm down_ , and he lifts his head up. Bucky's perched at the far side of the bed, broad back to him, and him looking back over his shoulder. He's not saying anything, but really, it's Bucky. Even if he wasn't already a man of few words, there are just some certain things that don't need to be said.

Maybe that's why Steve is always, always, the one who gets up and goes to make the tea, or get the coffee, or whatever other excuse he's come up with this time around; and Bucky's the one who watches Sam for a few quiet moments while the adrenaline runs out of him and leaves him colder all over, shivering in the dim light. Because Steve, at least here in the dark of the night, would have something more to say, though whatever it ended up being, they all know there's nothing that Sam would really want to hear right now, even from him; it won't bring Riley back, and it won't erase the scar tissue on his heart. It won't make the memories go away.

For a guy with only one arm, Bucky Barnes gives the best fucking hugs.

Sam presses his head into the crook of Bucky's shoulder, nose to skin, feeling the warmth run back through him. It's the first touch of spring sunlight on a chunk of winter's ice, and it's slow going, but Bucky holds him, lets Sam hold him, and the heat keeps building, tangled up in his heartbeat, pulsing along with the blood in his veins. He doesn't have to be told it's all going to be okay, he knows there's always going to be ups and downs. Some days are going to be worse than others, but he has people to ground himself against, people who will always understand. Now it's the nightmare that's falling away from him, further and further away. Sam sighs, breathes him in, and the way Bucky's cheek has just shifted against Sam's temple, Sam knows the man has smiled.

Bucky squeezes tighter, brushing a kiss along his hairline. Sam takes another breath, deeper now, warmer all over, and Bucky pulls away. He's stopped smiling, but that doesn't mean he's wearing a frown; instead, there's a tenderness in his eyes, a sort of gentleness that's got Sam sure he's never going to figure Bucky out.

But that's really okay, cause the way Sam looks at it, a little bit of mystery goes a long way.

It's been a few minutes now, and mostly they were just hugging. Steve clears his throat before making his way back into the room, and he's brought the promised tea, plus a few other drinks, and some snacks. Supersoldiers and their advanced metabolic rates, they eat at the oddest hours, doesn't matter if it's night or day.

Sam can't help but smile as Steve takes his place on the bed. He snuggles back into Steve's broad chest and they both get comfortable, Steve placing the tray on his lap before sliding one arm around his stomach. Bucky keeps one eye on them, pretty much all the time, as he picks through the treats on the tray. He ends up settling for an unidentifiable piece of fresh fruit, and he looks at it, then at Sam. And he grins, reaches out, piece of orange-yellow fruit in hand.

'I'm not putting that in my mouth unless I know what it is.'

Bucky's grin widens, and he bares his teeth. 'Carambola. Star fruit.'

It's sweet but tart, juicy as it melts on his tongue, and Bucky's fingertips are saltier, but still somehow sweet. 'Come on, man,' Sam murmurs, focusing on Steve, and Bucky, and not the fact they have suffered more, or worse, or even that the nightmare will come back again, they always do. Steve chuckles softly, nuzzling at his neck, and that's real, hot, _here_ ; if Sam concentrated hard, _very_ , very hard, he could probably even make himself forget what got them to this point in the first place. 'I've got to have another taste.'

Bucky rolls another piece in his fingers, watching him, always, as they both give Sam exactly what he's asked for, and more.


End file.
